


About Time

by wordsonthepage (tryingtostorytime)



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Gen, and Bad-Anon!!, feat. the Sugar Rush Racers & Slaughter Race & surprise cameos, ralph adopts vanellope the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryingtostorytime/pseuds/wordsonthepage
Summary: Faced with the growing realization of Ralph's role in her life, it is up to Vanellope to decide how to convince him to officially be her dad.Orrr, she can just abandon ship and stamp all these thoughts down until they stop messing up her life. Yeah, that sounds about right. She'll go with that one.(Nine-year-olds aren't exactly the best with feelings.)





	1. Kids will be kids

**Author's Note:**

> (Takes place after the events of RBTI, so spoilers ahoy!)

_"Helloooo, Game Central Station!"_

The little candy racer was all flourish and aplomb, sliding on her knees through the WIFI gate and into the wide, polished station floor. Several characters scattered out of her way, and after a brief interlude of disarray, continued going about their business. Videogame characters, as it was generally known, were well used to the occasional outlandish cutscene. 

"Vanellope von Schweetz."

A burst of blue frizzy light, and there was the Surge Protector, three steps away and giving her a very dry look. "Been a while since we've last seen you around here."

Vanellope shrugged and shuffled to her feet, patting the imaginary dust off her knees. "Don't get much free time with my new gig, y'know? Usually Ralph makes sure to visit whenever there's a patch and I get a day off, but I figured it's about time I paid the visit. Speaking of..."

She whirled around eagerly. "Where is that big lug, anyway? He doesn't know I'm here - wanted it to be a _surprise_."

Surge remained unfazed, lifting his clipboard and clicking his pen. "Need I remind you of mandatory customs after going through immigration, von Schweetz."

Vanellope scowled and throught fast to counter him about absolutely anything, just out of spite. "It's 'Princess' von Schweetz."

"Technically unapplicable, now that Sugar Rush is a democracy." He scrawled something at the top of the form. "Sour Bill's the president now, if you haven't heard."

"Yeah, Ralph told me. I'm guessing he wasn't too happy about it."

"Indeed. Have you brought any foreign material with you from the internet?"

Rolling her eyes, the girl spread her hands and motioned down to her trademark teal hoodie and chocolate wrapper skirt. "Do I look like I'm smugglin' anything, Surge?"

"A clear answer, please."

"No, brought nothing with me this time." She put her hands on her hips.

"How long is your intended stay?"

"Heading back the day after tomorrow."

"Which specific games are you jumping to for the duration of your visit?"

"You really gonna police my every move while I'm here?" Vanellope harumphed.

"After all the mayhem you and Wreck-it tend to amass together? I'm considering it."

In truth he seemed not that agitated, really, and instead leveled her with a serious stare. "Just stay out of trouble while you're here, kapeesh kid?"

Vanellope relaxed and offered a lazy salute. "Yessir, Surge Protector sir."

"Good." He nodded with the click of his pen, and a flicker that signalled his impending departure. "And you can find Ralph in Pac-Man - they've rescheduled a Bad-Anon meeting to tonight. They just started, so I doubt they'll be out for a couple more hours."

Vanellope yelled indignantly as the last of his blue light shot off to interrogate some other poor character. _"What?!"_

 

* * *

 

It would be a simple matter to stroll into Pac-Man and navigate to the conference room; no doubt Ralph would drop attendance the moment he saw her. Heck, even just one short phone call would send the guy careening out to meet her at the station.

But Vanellope knew better now. What kind of best friend would she be _didn't_ encourage the guy to have a life outside of her company? So for tonight, interrupting his social life was a no-no. It could wait until Bad Anon filed out.

Which did not explain at all why she still found herself gradually sneaking closer and closer to the entrance of Pac-Man.

"What am I _doing_?" she muttered, stepping out behind a column and pulling down the hood clad over her head. "Get it together, Vanellope. Figure out something else to do for a few hours, instead of hanging around like a creeper."

Okay, so maybe she'd missed seeing Ralph in person these past few weeks.

"Hey! It's you!"

The loud, obnoxious cry was the only warning for the gaggle of Goombas before a tiny, reptilian, hard-shelled figure was shoving and hopping his way through them. Bowser Jr. grinned, all semi-sharp teeth that paled in comparison to the design on his trademark white bib.

He was one of the 'Specials' in Game Central Station, having showed up four years ago when Litwak added consoles like Playstations and Gamecubes to his office to prevent nieces and nephews from playing too much on the weekdays.

Typically, characters from cartridges or discs weren't self-aware enough to make their way out of their games. She had checked out some before with Ralph; the inhabitants didn't seem to have any 'off-hours' - never acting, never finding the exit, and always confused by the drastic character designs of their visitors.

But there were exceptions.

Certain franchises, like Mario, had _both_ console and cabinet games within the building. The result was that, instead of creating an entirely new Mario and Bowser and Princess Peach, the memories and experiences of the new game were simply uploaded into the already existing inhabitants of GCS.

This also allowed certian significant characters - 'Specials' from console games - to achieve self-awareness, and also get the opportunity to muck around in the crossover habitat.

The entire concept still muddled Vanellope from time to time, so she tried not to think too much about the rules of everything.

"'Sup, Baby Bowser?" Vanellope greeted. She vaguelly recalled that since his game got plugged in, he almost never left his predecesor's side, and gestured over his shoulder to the Pac-Man entrance. "Your dad's in there now, isn't he?"

Junior nodded. "Yep, and so's yours! That's why, when I heard that you came back, thought ya'd like to know that we've got _our own thing_ going on now. 'Kids Zone', we've been calling it."

"Wait, what?" Vanellope said, distracted by his first statement. "Ralph's not my-"

"It's been really, really fun," Junior gushed, overpowering in his excitement. "We talk about how it is, to be stuck as a kid, or how we get frustrated by our folks sometimes. The racers - your friends from Sugar Rush - are there too! Been sharing their experiences being adopted. My koopa brothers and sisters can def'nitely relate, and-"

Vanellope blinked. Certainly she had heard about how Felix and Calhoun had opened their home to her fellow racers, and apparently somehow transformed them into paragons of society.

It was a miracle she had to see for herself. And it would, at the very least, be something to do in the meantime.

"Well, what are we standing around here for, then?" Vanellope interrupted loudly, clapping a hand against Junior's tough shell. "Let's a-go!"

She made sure to do the accent and all, and cackled at Junior's show of indignation and disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

 

'Kids Zone' was situated in Street Fighter, of all places. With many fighters choosing to hang in the station in their off-hours, several fighting locations remained vacant in the night. The game's natives allowed the kids to pick and choose for their assemblies, which was pretty nice of them, Vanellope found.

She did notice however that the more dangerous aspects of the map, like flaming oil barrels and spikier sections, were cordoned off with traffic cones and a ridiculous amount of 'No Entry' tape. She had a feeling that was mostly Zangief's doing.

"Look who's here!" Junior sang as they rounded a couple of vandalized vehicles.

The kids, to no surprise, had gone to town over anything available, from climbing stoplights to draping themselves over sidewalk tables, to stacking stray or stolen tires into a strategic fort in the middle of the road.

"Yes indeedy, we read the news!" Minty called, waving a newspaper from her perch above said arrangement. The headline featured a shot of Vanellope, pouting her way through Surge's earlier interrogation.

Paperboy waved in their general direction, cheerfully circling around the fort by balancing on top of a single tire. Not far away on the sidewalk, some of Junior's Koopaling siblings were rifling through the contents of his discarded delivery shoulder bag.

"Golly, it is swell to see you again, Vanellope," Rancis declared brightly.

Vanellope couldn't respond even if she wanted to, as Candlehead had rushed over and engulfed her in a hug.

"Holy smokes, Ralph wasn't kidding," Vanellope gasped when she was finally released.

It was then she realized that, in the midst of her mild asphiyxiation, all the other racers had surrounded her.

Now, this was not the first time this has happened in her life. But out of all the instances, this definitely felt most surreal. Never before were they either teary-eyed and apologetic, or looking at her so earnestly and wringing their hands. It was _freaky_.

To top it all off, Taffyta stepped forward, her pink cap in her hands. "Listen, Vanellope. I know you and I haven't always gotten on the right foot-"

Vanellope held up both hands appeasingly and shook her head. "Okay, okay, okay. Don't need to keep up the act around me, fellas. It's embarrassing us both-"

"No, we really mean it!" cried Snowanna as she tugged on Gloyd's arm wildly, much to the consternation of its owner. "We know better now!"

"Yeah," Taffyta insisted. "Mom and dad really got us reflecting on it. King Candy only messed with your code and our memories, but _not_ our personalities. The way we treated you, that was all us."

"And we never really apologized properly for it," Jubileena said, wincing at the memory. "When we did it the first time, we we're more worried 'bout getting in trouble. So we're gonna do it right this time. Ready, guys?"

She glanced at the rest of the racers, lifting her hands slowly like a conductor. Certain of their attention, she dropped them, and a chorus let out.

" _We're sorry, Vanellope!_ "

"Whoa," Junior whispered under his breath, having awkwardly sidled behind Vanellope in all the activity.

Vanellope shared the sentiment. And wheeling around a couple times, it became clear that the racers were awaiting a reaction. Unsure of what else to do, she let out a small 'thanks'.

They relaxed, and several stepped forward. This time she was ready, and glitched out of the way when all went rushing forward for a group hug.

"Hey!" Junior yelped, buried in the ambush of affection.

The rest of the Koopalings cackled, and skipping over to Vanellope to pat her approvingly for unintentionally messing with their brother.

"About time you joined the club, Van," Roy snickered as Van once more glitched out of grasp before the eldest Koopaling could deliver a full-blown noogie. "'S a breath of fresh air, since your folks haven't thrown you absolutely off your rocker."

Vanellope's brow furrowed. "My 'folks'?"

"Technically, she only has one 'folk'," Iggy pointed out, flourishing a rodlike wand like an knowledgable instructor.

"Which is just as valid." Larry's blue hair flopped over his eyes. "We've only got our dad too."

"For a while we've been trying to get Princess Peach for a mom," Ludwig thoughtfully stated. "Though dad's been telling us to tone it down by a _lot_ since we got to Game Central Station. Now we only capture her when it's our job, in-game."

"It's called 'feminism'," Wendy added proudly, spreading her hands in the shape of a rainbow. "It's a thing they talk about in Bad-Anon. Does your dad mention some of that stuff to you too?"

Vanellope could feel her face burning hot. "Ralph's not my dad!"

It may have gone out louder than she intended it to, startling the Sugar Rush racers enough to release Bowser Jr. who, as it turned out, had retreated into the safety of his shell.

"Are you guys talking about Uncle Ralph?" Gloyd called, popping up over the pile curiously. "Oh! Vanellope's over there now, fellas."

"Evading capture, huh? That's our ex-princess for ya," Adorabeezle said fondly. "Although that's not com-plete-ly true these days, isn't it? You've _got_ to tell us about the Princess Squad that Uncle Ralph says you've made friends with over the Internet-"

Pixels in her arms and legs jolted. Vanellope's stomach felt unwell. "Ralph's not your Uncle either! Stop calling him that."

The racers glanced amongst each other in concern.

"Umm," Snowanna hesitated. "Dad calls him 'brother', so we figured it wasn't that big of a leap."

"And he's okay with it too," Crumbelina piped up. "Said it was weir at first, but he seemed to get used to it quick, after mom and dad explained our adoption."

For some reason, this only made Vanellope feel worse. "You guys call him that... to his face...?" It hardly sounded like a question, a voice too small to be heard by anyone else.

The atmosphere in the map had changed drastrically in the general bewilderment. Junior peeked out of his shell, squinting worriedly.

"Uh... Is everying alright, Van?"

Vanellope shook her head, and with a bright glitch, she was gone.


	2. Witness Me (freaking out)

The car door slammed behind her, the sound echoing throughout the warehouse.

"Wasn't expecting to see you back so soon, Shortstuff," Felony remarked, seated on a short stool by where she had been checking her own car tires' air pressure.

Vanellope mumbled back in reply, head bowed and hands in her hoodie pocket, dragging her feet along the ground.

"What'd you say?" Pyro commented, pulling away from soldering his latest invention. He removed the protective visor from his face, revealing the only part of him that wasn't covered in soot, and tilted his head questioningly. "Hm. Looks like someone's in a bad mood."

Shank leaned forward from her throne upon a metal container, brown hair spilling over her leather jacket. "Something bothering you?"

Vanellope shrugged, shuffling to her designated pitstop area as nonchalantly as possible.

Little Debbie put her phone away and leaned on her arm across the back of Vanellope's workbench, eyebrow raised. "You're flashing green boxes all over the place, sweetie. You can vent out to us, we don't mind."

"Someone tried to mess with ya?" Butcher Boy demanded. He tossed a greasy burger wrapper over his shoulder and wiped his hands on an oil-stained rag. "Ever since I've started my spiritual journey, I haven't been that good with the beating up part, _but_ I think I can manage scaring them up a 'lil. Can even tag team with that friend of yours - I'm sure he wouldn't mind lookin' all mean for your benefit."

Vanellope did not answer, but her face must have given something away at that last part. Shank strode over and crouched by her side.

"Did you and Ralph have another fight, Babygirl?" Shank asked gently, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Vanellope perked up in alarm. "No! No, it wasn't... I didn't even get to see him; he was busy."

"Aw, so you didn't meet up?" Pyro frowned, dusting soot off his shoulders. "That's too bad. I'd be pissed too, after goin' all that way."

Debbie propped her chin to her palm speculatively. "We're not gonna be online for a couple more days - you should give a call and bully your way into his schedule."

"No, I don't think that's the problem here," Shank said slowly, carefully examining the little girl's demeanor.

Vanellope lifted her shoulders, chin dipping into the neckline of her hoodie. "It's not that big of a deal..."

"Doesn't matter. We're great listeners," Felony declared, spinning 180 on her seat to transfer her full attenion. She smirked mischiveously. "Didn't we tell you about the time when Butcher first discovered his vids, and he wouldn't stop yapping about it for two months?"

"You _let_ me!" Butcher Boy accused, affronted.

"And we'd do it again, because that's how we roll as a team," Shank called fondly as the crew laughed and sniggered at the memory. She turned back to the girl, shifting to serious and solemn.

"Vanellope, listen. We're not going to force it out of you."

She released the shoulder, stooping lower and maintaining eye-contact. "But know that we're your friends. We care about you. You're welcome to tell us anything that's on your mind - and if it's a problem, maybe we can even help you figure your way through it."

The rest of the crew supported this with a chorus of 'yeahs' and fist-pumping to the air.

Vanellope lowered her eyes, tracing an invisible line on the cement with the toe of her boot.

"I, uh, ran into a couple of kids from the game I used to race at. They got adopted by a couple I know, and it's become such a _big deal_ for them. And other kids were going on and on about their parents too, and... It's stupid. I don't even know why I got so worked up about it."

After everything they've said, she knew that they wouldn't jeer or insult her, although some mild teasing felt justified after that sorry display. Yet instead the group appeared wholly sympathetic, and abandoned tools at their stations to approach.

"I'm sure those kids didn't mean to throw you under the bus like that," Butcher Boy offered.

"And not everyone needs to have a mom or a dad to be part of a family, kid," Debbie said, tone firm. "We have your back, you know that right?"

"I know! It's just..." Vanellope bit her lip, frustrated, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling.

Luckily, Shank wasn't the leader of the group for just good looks and driving prowess. She cocked her head to the side, considering.

"Do you _want_ a parental figure, Vanellope?" she inquired.

Vanellope froze.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of - people from all walks of life would wish for such a nurturing presence."

As the words came out, Shank appeared to grow more sure she was on the right track. "And you mentioned Larry before," she added, bringing in her preferred nickname for a certain someone with terrible lying abilities.

Vanellope looked at all the expectant faces of the crew, suddenly at a loss for words. "Um."

Pyro clapped his bandaged hands excitedly. " _That's it_? You're gonna ask Mr. Memelord to be your dad? I don't see why you're so caught up - that's bonkers, Tiny! In a good way! No need to glitch for something like that!"

"About time, I'd say," Debbie said, nodding.

"Memelord the Second! I am _not_ being sarcastic; this is _absolutely amazing_ and I support it _5-ever_."

"I dunno," Felony wrinkled her nose. "The guy doesn't seem ready enough to be parent material to me."

"No one's _ready_ to become a parent, Fel! It's a growing process!"

Meanwhile, Butcher Boy had shot off like a horse, exclaiming something about a recipe book to whip up a celebratory cake. Shank had her phone out, smiling widely as she jotted down a text message.

"This is wonderful! Yesss will be so stoked to hear the news. I'm already prepping the draft," she mentioned, and glanced upwards. "Have you asked, officially, yet? I don't suppose they have adoption papers back in the arcade you came from. You'll want to bring that up with him later ooooo...h no."

"What?" Vanellope asked - no, croaked. She jumped slightly at her own voice, and in the process reappeared twenty feet above the ground in a burst of pixellated green.

It was her glitch, back with a vengeance. Blinded by panic, she teleported again, and again - above the stack of metal containers, up to the rafters, on the hood of Shank's car.

It had been so long since she felt this piece of faulty code fluctuating so irrationally within her. Now it was getting too out of hand, embarrassing her in front of all these people she badly yearned to impress.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, somehow miraculously glitching just above the driver's seat of her car.

Plopping onto the leather seat and forgoing her seatbelt, she revved up the engine. And in a few quick swerves between her friends and their belongings, she was speeding out of the warehouse and to the exit of Slaughter Race as fast as the dizzying rush of blood in her ears.


	3. Talk it Over

Vanellope sat curled up miserably at the outskirts of Oh My Disney website - It was the first place she could think of that wasn't Slaughter Race or the WIFI highway back to Game Central Station. 

She absolutely refused to go inside, however - she had enough of sickeningly sweet attitudes today just from the Sugar Rush racers, thank you very much. Right now, all she wanted to was mope and grouse about the complicated thing that was feelings.

It'd be lying to admit that the concept Shank introduced hadn't crossed her mind before. Heck, Ralph had technically even taught her how to drive - wasn't that already something a parent would do, no matter what Felony said?

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her knees, muttering in frustration.

None of this would've been a problem in the first place if the other racers had stayed content in their old lives and bratty personalities, instead of finding 'parents' and being obnoxiously happy about it. And it was another mistake to bring it up with Shank's crew. Hearing them wax poetic and react so strongly made her realize this really was a _big thing_  she cared about. And the way things were looking, none of her internal drama was going to settle 'til she actually saw it through.

Vanellope stayed there for well over an hour, refusing to move. No one bothered her - pop-ups didn't typically hang around the area, and the avatars would drop out of their transport cubes a lot further down near the entrance.

Ultimately it was the Internet itself that got her to move it, seemingly changing to the passage of time. The temperature had gradually dropped to a point that she had to tuck her hands into the opposing sleeves of her hoodie to combat some of its effects.

"Whoops, I _might_ be making things too cold. Backing up a 'lil bit."

The voice was unexpected and jovial and entirely unfamiliar. Vanellope lifted her head suspiciously.

Before her was the oddest-looking snowman she'd ever seen, which was saying something after all the competitions she and Ralph had on Ice Cream Summits. But the oddest thing about it wasn't the shape nor the perpetual snow dispensing cloud above it - it was that the snowman was alive and aggressively cheerful.

"Hello," he beamed, stretching his stick arms high in introduction. "I'm Olaf!"

Vanellope whirled her head around, wondering if the rest of the world was seeing this crazy hallucination. The only people passing by were avatars, however, and paid them absolutely no mind as they zoomed in and out of the Disney website to frolic to their heart's content.

It was then Vanellope realized the one place the snowman could've originated from.

"Are you from, uh?" She gestured to the website entrance, a grand open gate with a castle motif, adorned with the image of some famous rodent.

"Yup!" Olaf collapsed on his giant snowball rump across her, hopping in place several times to spin in a circle and admire the view. "This is a nice spot. Lots of scenery, good for people watching - oh, by the way! What's your name?"

"Err, Vanellope. Vanellope von Schweetz," she answered cautiously.

"Nice to meet ya, Vanellope," the snowman responded, his big single tooth prominent when he smiled. "You were looking a bit down just then. Hope you don't mind the company, do you?"

There, a way out. She wouldn't even have to be rude about it - despite everything, Olaf looked like a decent enough sort. A mild dismissal would be enough to be left alone.

But it would be nice to be able to vent a little to a complete stranger, wouldn't it? Especially one so clearly unmalicious from a family-friendly website?

"It's just a personal issue," Vanellope mumbled.

"Really? What happened?"

Oh wow, he was literally asking for it.

She mentioned the bare bones of it all, giving up the unaffected playacting for once. "... and with more and more people getting into my head, now _this_ happens because I'm so worked up."

She shuddered once, angrily, her glitch sparking in a cubist firework.

"Huh." Olaf patted her back consolingly. During the lament, he had wobbled to her side so she wouldn't have to complain so loudly in the middle of the internet. "So it sounds to me that you want to ask your best friend to be your dad, but at the same time... you don't want to?"

"Because what if it changes everything?" Vanellope reared so violently in her frustration that a couple of candy pieces went flying from her hair.

"When the other racers were adopted, it was like their entire personalities flipped. I don't want to be like that! Or, or, what if Ralph won't even want to adopt me? And I wouldn't blame him - he felts like I abandoned him for Slaughter Race! He says he's over it, but... It's too risky to bring it up."

Olaf furrowed his brow, nodding through her list. "If I may, your situation's different from those other racers, don't you think? You've been buddies for _six years_ already - if there was going to be any changes to either of you, it would've happened by now."

A palm pressed to one of her eyes, Vanellope paused. "Yeah, I... I guess so."

"Do you feel you've changed as a person since meeting your friend Ralph?"

She thought about it.

Before Ralph, there were countless boring, lonely nights in Diet Cola Mountain, gazing longingly at the racetracks in the distance and yearning to have a kart of her own.

And then she met the guy. Together they built her kart, and he taught her how to drive, to have confidence in her skills. And, after a few ups and downs, he then somehow managed to break the game back into working order that she too could race and explore the wonders the station had to offer.

For that she would be forever grateful, no matter the stumbles the idiot would get himself into.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Change happened."

"For the better?"

Vanellope nodded, to the snowman's delight.

"As for the other part...” Olaf rubbed his snowy chin. "I'm no expert, but I think a lot of parents would find it difficult being apart from their child - especially the ones who care a whole lot. But they eventually learn to let them go, and let them live their own lives. It sounds just like another tick in the box _in favor_ of Ralph being your dad."

Vanellope stared at the snowman. "You say you're no expert, and then you churn out baloney like _that_?"

"What can I say, except that I really like talking about feelings?" Olaf replied in singsong.

Beyond that, he grinned and offered nothing more, allowing the girl to mull over shared insights in silence. Olaf didn't appear to mind waiting, plucking out the carrot representation of his nose and experimentally popping it on other areas of his face. Vanellope saw none of this, eyes distant.

Minutes ticked by.

Finally, she released a deep breath and sat up straight in determination.

"Okay. I'll talk to him about it."

Olaf leapt to his feet, stick arms up and ready to belt out in happiness.

"But."

The snowman tentatively lowered his arms.

"What should I even _say_?" Vanellope despaired. "Can you just _ask_ someone to be your parent, out of the blue?"

"Hm." Olaf slapped his arms to his sides thoughtfully.

Then he lit up. "I know what we can do! A trial run!"

There wasn't any opportunity to get more details, because suddenly the snowman was launching off through into the Disney website. Vanellope scrambled to her feet after him, thoroughly lost by his proclamation.

Keeping up the pace was a challenge. There were crowds of avatars duck through and dozens of Stormtroopers that still haven't got the memo that she was good with their bosses. Thankfully, they tapered off the further delved, and ultimately she caught up to Olaf at a crossroads where all other creatures seemed to have disappeared.

Gasping for breath, she questioned about this to her companion, who was perusing a foldable map that he had picked up from who know's where.

"Oh, that's because it's kinda off-limits to real humans and their avatars. These roads lead to worlds we characters live and rest," he explained, flipping the map upside down and studying it just as cheerfully. "It's nice to head back on days where there's not much traffic."

"Like Game Central," Vanellope realized, impressed that a similar system existed for website inhabitants. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"To my world! Just making sure I've got the right... aha!"

Navigation successful, Olaf started skipping to one of the rightmost paths.

The pace was much more manageable now, and Vanellope took to tailing behind to compose what she wanted to say later when she got back to the arcade. At the same time, a not small part of her maybe also wondered at what sort of ridiculous world a bumbling character like Olaf came out of.

Might as well take a look, while she was here.

Tall pine trees appeared and lined the path. Snowflakes drifted down from white coated branches, quickly obscuring a dirt path that the dense rubbery flooring of the website had faded into. Every exhale left faint clouds that softly disippated before her eyes, and she couldn't help but play with this, imagining herself as a smoking dragon.

The scene was picturesque and a breath of fresh air, even as she tucked deeper into the precious warmth of her hoodie. Definitely turning into a frozen wonderland.

... Wait a second. Don't tell her that the snowman came from the same world as-

"Olaf, what happened to your _face_?"

At the turn of the road ahead stood Queen Elsa, dressed in her signature blue dress with her equally blue eyes wide in alarm. She quickly glided over, crouching down to assess the talking snowman.

"Huh? What's wrong with my face?" He clapped over all the essentials - his eyes, his mouth, and yelped in horror when he found nothing in the middle.

"It's here, I've got it," Elsa assured, tugging the carrot out of the top of his head where it stuck like a hat. "Hold still, let me just... There!"

Carrot shoved back into place, the snowman wagged his head side to side like a puppy, fitting it just right.

"Aw, thanks for that," Olaf said, sharing smiles with the queen as she rose to her proper height. "And it's perfect timing! I was just looking for you - would you be interested in being my mom?"

Elsa stared, as frozen as the title of her movie. When her mind finally caught up to her, she put her hands together, bending forward with a degree of gravity and bewilderment. "I... Now hold on, Olaf, but where did _that_ come from?"

"My friend was gonna ask _her friend_ to be her dad, but then she got nervous," Olaf explained matter-of-factly. "So now I'm asking _you_ so that she can kind of picture what's gonna happen."

"I see," Elsa said distractedly. She didn't even pay the briefest glimpse to Vanellope, eyes locked on the snowman. "So you didn't really mean... This is just hypothetical?"

"Nah, it's a real question," Olaf responded with a cheerful flourish. "'Cause you're always making sure my snow doesn't run out, and pull together a search team whenever I say out too long. Good parents always look out for the kids, therefore a legitamate association. Whatd'ya say, ' _Ma_ '?"

Elsa couldn't say anything, really, because she had just buried her face unfathomably in both hands.

The situation felt increasingly leaning toward the very brink of disaster. Vanellope edged closer to Olaf, whispering. "Abort mission?"

Shamelessly, he whispered right back. "No, wait. Let's see what happens."

And it was a good thing they did too, because it soon became evident that, by the tiny sounds she made and the intensifying shake of her shoulders, this wasn't a negative reaction.

Elsa was laughing.

"Out of all the things you ask for, you silly snowman..." She kept one hand pressed to her eyes to contain her mirth, hovering the other uselessly in midair before Olaf stepped over and she could plant it on his head affectionally.

"So what's your answer?" Olaf inquired with a goofy grin.

"I'll think about it! I will have to tell Anna and the other two, and the castle, and the other princesses... Are you expecting an answer _now_?"

"It's okay, you can say 'no' later," Olaf assured, patting her arm.

"I am not going to say that!"

"Then it's a 'yes'!" He turned back to Vanellope triumphantly. "See? That's how you ask! Just get it out there, let them answer. It's easy."

It was just _too much_. Vanellope sputtered, keeling over by the absurdity of what she just witnessed. Had to hand it to him though - the little guy was absolutely fearless.

Yet, even as she wiped a tear from her eye, an understanding had reached her senses and settled down a good lot of the butterflies bothering her stomach since the start of the evening.

The anthrophromorphic stack of snowballs was right. Asking was easy, even if she couldn't control how Ralph was going to react. What mattered was that she went through with it, once and for all, so she could stop stressing and move on with whatever happened afterwards. Their friendship had already been tried and tested - they would be fine, even if things got awkward for a while. Unbelievable - this entire time, she had been making a mountain out of a molehill.

Also, apparently Elsa had finally noticed her, which was about time.

"Hi Vanellope," she greeted kindly. "I assume you're the friend Olaf mentioned. I'm glad you're getting along - oh, and you're welcome to our hospitality in Arendalle, if you're staying a while."

"Thanks, but I'll pass for tonight," Vanellope grinned, retracing steps backward on imprints left behind in the snow. "I'd better get back to the arcade. Gotta meet someone, ask them some important stuff."

"I see." The queen lifted an eyebrow in mild amusement. "I'd wish you luck, but I don't think you'll need it."

" _You'll be fine!_ " Olaf simultaneously yelled and whispered, stick hands cupped around his mouth.

Vanellope waved farewell, wheeled around, and proceeded on the path with renewed vigor.

Time to get this over with.


	4. At the End of the Day

The Surge Protector wasn't too stoked about having to process her twice in one day, but it was easy enough to mitigate by swearing she wouldn't get involved in any possibly catastrophic shenanigans for the rest of her visits within the year. 

(She kept fingers crossed behind her back, just in case. It wasn't like she went _hunting_ for crazy things to happen outside her control.) 

"How's the Bad-Anon meeting going, by the way?" Vanellope asked, casually. 

Surge finalized the form and flipped to a new page, gesturing with a lazy wave of his pen. "Just finished. Heading back down the tracks as we speak." 

"Cool, cool, cool." 

Surge glanced up and observed her shuffling - as lowkey as she could manage but still very noticable -towards the Pac-Man entrance. He lowered the clipboard, unimpressed. 

"You may go. And remind Ralph to stop bringing out fruits from Pac-Man." 

"We both know that's not going to happen, Surge." 

And with that, Vanellope dashed across the station. Reaching her destination, lo-and-behold, there was Bad-Anon taking their sweet time disembarking the electric cord tram from Pac-Man's world. 

"... and that's why I think console game remakes are great for arcades," Eggman concluded, earning polite applause for what had apparently been a long speech. 

"I fear it could be a delicate balance," Sorceress said with a mild frown, floating off the tram and smoothing down the skirt of her dress. "Modern players may grow too accustomed to games with high quality graphics, and distance themselves from 'retro' games." 

Bison nodded thoughtfully amidst concerned chatter from the other bad guys. "Good point." 

"Retro will be fine! As long as gameplay's good and story's good," Zangief declared, clapping hand on Eggman's shoulder resolutely, then using him as support to heave up and onto the station floor. "Gamers will return to see how much things changed from original iteration. It is win-win!" 

"As long as the cabinet stays in working order," Satan joked, nudging Ralph with an elbow by the graffiti-covered wall. 

Ralph raised an eyebrow at that, though appeared more amused than anything. "Tell me again why I made an actual emergency budget for the game cabinets of all you ungrateful war criminals?" 

Cyril the Zombie meandered over to plopped once more on Ralph's side (who, to his credit, only flinched a little this time), wheezing. "Appreciate... you!" 

"Thanks, Zombie. Here, have one of these giant cherries. Does anyone want the other one?" Ralph looked around. "I'm stuffed from the snacks in the meeting. Robot, you raising your hand?" 

1011001 shook its head, and pointed the mechanical arm to the exact corner beyond the Pac-Man entrance, directly behind which Vanellope had been spying from. 

Caught, she sheepishly stepped out and performed a weak jazz hands. "Surprise!" 

Ralph's face lit up like the clouds parted on the rainiest day of the year. "Kid! What are you doing here!? Can someone hold onto-" 

An idle flick of Sorceress's hand, and a purple wave of magic pried the zombie from Ralph's arm, levitating him a foot in the air. Another flick, and the remaining cherry magicked out of his hands and into those of Bowser, who had been staring at it longingly and licking his lips from a distance. 

With a quick thanks, Ralph leapt forward and met Vanellope halfway.

"Slaughter Race's getting patched for a few days, and I wanted to freak you out by showing up out of the blue," Vanellope explained, grinning as Ralph got on his knees in front of her. 

"Consider me freaking out. You should've called ahead though! I would've baked a pie for the occasion. I'm getting pretty good at them now - Mary's not bursting into tears whenever she sees 'em anymore, at least." 

"Nice progress. Uh, actually. There was something I wanted to talk to ya about, Ralph." Vanellope tucked her hands in her hoodie pocket. 

Ralph tilted his head brightly, totally unaware of the opposing side's emotional turmoil. "Lay it on me." 

That actually gave her an idea. "Okay, you gotta bend down. Remember before?" 

Ralph rolled his eyes, but obediently lowered his head to her level. "Gonna knight me with another one of your terrible nicknames?" 

"Kind of like that." Vanellope cleared her throat, and tapped a hand on each of Ralph's shoulders. 

"Sir Stinkbrain, I dub thee by a new title! As... 'my dad'. If you're cool with it." 

That was it. Done. Some tension slipped away from her shoulders now that it was out there. 

What remained, though, was the ugly feeling in her gut. This wasn't over. 

Ralph lifted his head. His brow was furrowed. Typically wasn't a good sign. 

"What brought this on?" 

That had been inquried of her so many times today that her answer went out sounding rehearsed. "Y'know how all the other racers got adopted by Felix and Calhoun?" 

"Yeah, so what?" A thunderous, concerned look went over the guy. "You know you don't need parents to turn out just fine, right? You're a spectacular kid on your own-" 

"I know, I know!" She held up her palms to quiet him down, the pixels in her face flushing in frustration. "But thing is, Ralph, I _want_ you to be my dad. I'm not kidding. I... Whatd'ya say?" 

Five seconds. 

It took five seconds of a staring contest before Ralph delivered his answer. 

"Sure." 

Vanellope blinked, and lost both the contest and maybe some her sanity. "That's _it_? That's all you have to say?" 

"It's a no-brainer, isn't it?" Ralph lifted his shoulders helplessly, startled as if wondering if he picked the wrong answer. "I'm already the adult...ish figure in your life. The responsible one, checking in on the weekends, always getting you out of trouble..." 

Even now she couldn't resist throwing shade, a little bit. "You broke the internet, Ralph. And a couple of princesses had to save you from getting pancaked." 

"Point is, I'm _trying_. And doing the best I can. Which is the all I can offer, really, as your... your..." 

Ralph trailed off, eyes widening and slowly burying one hand in his unruly hair to push it back. The gravity of what just happened evidently just occured to him. 

When he spoke again, he was quiet, unsure. "Thing is, I... might not be the greatest pick. Compared to Felix, and even _Shank_ , now that you have her, I'm not exactly... It's not too late to take it back, kid." 

Now this was another eye-opening moment for Vanellope, fears and insecurities vanishing in a puff of smoke. She'd been worrying that Ralph would reject her because of _her_... it never occurred that he'd think of it the other way around. 

"I asked you, didn't I?" Vanellope threw a light punch at his other hand, and pointed two fingers to her eyes to instigate eye contact. "Felix may be an awesome dad, and yeah, Shank's pretty cool too. But I don't really _know_ them, at least not as well as you. If there's one person I'd ever want watching my back, should the lights go out at Litwaks, or at the very edges of the internet..." 

Vanellope dug into her hoodie, took out half a cookie pendant, and offered it with a heavy dose meaning and intent, the physical representation of everything she wanted to say. 

"We have a deal, pal?" 

Ralph sniffled. With one gargantuan hand, he wiped the tears from his eyes, while the other fetched another cracked cookie from the neckline of his shirt. The halves aligned perfectly into a full heart. Coated in sweets and icing, the enscribed message 'You're My Hero' once more shined through. 

It was the greatest moment of her life. So, naturally, Vanellope promptly tackled her new dad. 

Ralph was equally as overwhelmed, holding her steady while she clung to his neck and shoulders, leaping to his feet to dance in circles like a happy orangutan.

That was the signal that sent the rest of Bad-Anon approaching. Having stuck around to watch from a distance, they had a pretty good idea of what just happened and were absolutely ecstatic about it, cheers of congratulations echoing around the station. Satan appeared most affected, and bawled his eyes to a handkerchief. 

"A happy day! Cause to celebrate!" Zangief bellowed, slapping backs of fellow members at the perimeter. "Come, Zombie, Cyborg, Bison - we shall reserve seats at Tappers! Drinks for all bad guys, and one root beer!" 

"Two root beers!" Ralph shouted at their departing forms, Zombie tethered by the arm and bobbing above the crowd like a balloon. 

He had recovered somewhat: no more dancing, but still holding tight the girl who refused to remove her face from his shoulder. "Okay, uh. Can someone go to Fix-it Felix Jr. and break the news to Felix and Calhoun? Now that I think of it, there's also Sugar Rush- kid, how'd you want to go about that?" 

Vanellope turned her head side-to-side, voice muffled. "Don't really care either way. They'll find out from Cal and Felix eventually." 

"They're not the only characters from your game that matter, kid," Ralph reminded exasperatedly. "The donut cops, the pastry beard-guy, all those candy people with the funky pinwheel designs- Oh! Someone tell Sour Bill. He can spread the word around." 

"On it." Sorceress swept past, perched on her staff like a witch sidestraddling a broom. She offered a last bit of advice before speeding off. "Don't forget Clyde. He's still in Pac-Man." 

"I'll get him. You're welcome," Eggman announced, adjusting his goggles. Parting from the group, he added over his shoulder, "Make sure you get me the finest scotch from the bar!" 

"Who's paying?" Bowser growled. 

"Not me," sniffed Satan, dabbing the handkerchief corner to the folds of his eyes. 

They eyed Ralph hopefully, who made a face right back. "Just because I have _real_ money doesn't mean I can afford all you barrel guzzlers." 

"Booooo." 

"Cheapskate!" 

"Ain't there such thing as electronic money? Maybe Tapper accepts bitcoin." 

"You're paying for your own drinks! Get out of here," Ralph grinned, shooing them off with his free hand. "Me and the kid will meet you there!" 

The rest of Bad-Anon good-naturedly meandered off, some still turning every so often to put two thumbs up or to mouth more words of congratulations. It was actually kind of endearing. 

Once left alone, Ralph could finally check on Vanellope, whose face still pressed to his shoulder. He prodded her side. "Hey. You breathing there?" 

The little girl pulled back, mashing her hands against her face and ridding it of snot and tears. Ralph didn't comment, just picked her up and let her stand on an open palm. 

"Guess the crew in Slaughter Race is gonna be in for one heck of a surprise when you return, huh?" 

Vanellope scrunched her face. "Actually..." 

A short summary later, and Ralph had his first experience as an exhausted father. 

"Kid. Call Shank and give an update. Please. You must've given them a heart attack." 

"Aw, look at you. And it's only been five minutes since you got the job!" 

" _Vanellope._ " 

"Alright, I'm calling! Yeesh." 

She dialed up her friends at Slaughter Race, secretly anxious of how they'd react after that cliff-hanging departure earlier. Yet when the holographic screen materialized to reveal the faces of the crew, once again the fears proved unfounded. 

"Hi guys," Ralph greeted. "I'm dad." 

"Dad joke by an actual dad now!" Shank exclaimed delightedly. " _Mazel tov!_ " 

Beside her, Felony smirked with arms folded. "Knew it would go well," she declared, much to the indignation of Butcher Boy. She raised a finger before he could vocally retort. "Wasn't against it. He does a decent job, all things considered. Just nitpicking that the guy should step up his game." 

Ralph did not quite know how to take that. "Thanks, Felony?" 

Meanwhile, in true celebratory Slaughter Race-style, Pyro had climbed on top of his car beyond the crew, inferno blasting out of his flamethrower to the sky, red and orange dancing to the very edges of the frame.

It was then Vanellope noticed that the crew was still inside the warehouse.

"Uh, isn't that a fire hazard?" 

Things got messy, after that. Debbie ended up with the phone last, passing her own congratulations within a hurried goodye, as everyone else disbanded to attend to Pyro via yelling, or to fetch a fire extinguisher. 

As the screen terminated, Vanellope noticed that Ralph had turned pale.  


"My code's in the game. I can regenerate anytime now," Vanellope mentioned. "And Pyro's a lot less trigger-happy whenever I'm around in person." 

The guy still didn't look entirely convinced, so Plan B was thinking fast for something left field. 

" _Anyway,_ back to what just happened - this means I can call you 'dad' now, right?" 

Sucessfully distracted, Ralph squinted at her and tilted his head. "Honestly? Sounds a lot like when Cal and Felix's kids started calling me 'Uncle'. I mean, yeah sure, if you want. Just gonna take some getting used to." 

She hadn't really thought about it until she asked the question, but Vanellope found her feelings aligned with what Ralph just said. In no way, shape, or form was this meant to imply she was ashamed to call him 'dad', especially when he was being a bumbling buffoon out in public. But it just didn't sound right for most of their escapades. 

"I'll call you that, sometimes. But honestly, I'm way too used to calling you 'Ralph' everywhere we go already." 

"Suit yourself. Then what am I going to call _you_?" Ralph eyed her faux-incredulously. "Still 'kid'? Or 'daughter'? How about 'infant'?" 

Vanellope snorted, tucking her pendant back in her hoodie and where it belonged above her own heart. "Don't be weird. 'Kid' is just fine." 

Ralph grinned and set her on top of one of his massive shoulders - the one that _didn't_ have a damp spot and was being a good sport not mentioning. "Doesn't hurt to stick with the classics, huh?" 

She affectionately patted his head as he carried them to Tapper's, grinning right back. Nothing had changed. Yet at the same time, everything did. She wouldn't have it any other way. 

"You can say that again, _Stinkbrain_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Epilogue: Some time later at Street Fighter...) 
> 
> "Hey guys, sorry for ditching last time." 
> 
> "Vanellope, welcome back! Uh, who's your friend?" 
> 
> "New kid on the block. Call him my emotional support snowman." 
> 
> "Hi, I'm Olaf!" 
> 
> —-
> 
> (Hi guys, thanks for reading and sticking around ‘til the end! Trying to get back into the groove of writing, and I’ve forgotten how draining it can get. Still fulfilling, at the end of the day, but whew... so draining.)
> 
> (P.S. That being said, thank you thank you thank you so much for the kind reviews! They are the equivalent of fuel to my being. Nourishment of the soul. Caffiene to my brain. :) )


End file.
